Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
For some reason, the thought of that man makes my blood boil with savage fury. I’m not unreasonably violent. At least, not usually. When I pull the trigger or use my knife, I do it for a well-deliberated reason. To balance the scales. The motive may be personal, but my feelings never are. It’s purely business.
Yet with Anya, the rage comes naturally. I can’t control it. There’s a very good reason I never asked Rachele about her ex-lovers. With how diligently Luigi protected her chastity, I was surprised to discover that she wasn’t a virgin when I took her to bed. That’s not the way things work in those families. Until this day, I haven’t asked her who her first was even though her father promised it to me. By contract, that was what she owed me, what they owed me. I paid for it in blood, doing Luigi’s killings from the age he taught me how to handle a gun. Yet for the whole five years we were together, I never demanded an explanation. I simply ignored it, believing what mattered was the present.
And here I am, going through the most intimate belongings of a woman who should’ve been my victim but became my ticket to freedom, finding that it’s not so easy to push that question down like before. It all comes back to ownership. Anya’s life belongs to me, and I don’t like to share. I have a crazed urge to purge her of the touch of any other and to brand her with my own possession. The depravity of that odd, carnal desire isn’t lost on me. But I don’t want to force her. I’m many things, but that’s not who I am. Somehow, I’ll earn her consent. When I’m done with her, I want her crawling and begging. I want her to look at me and me alone, knowing only I am her salvation.
It’s fucked up, but I’ve fantasized about owning her from the moment I pressed her against a wall and discovered my body’s greedy, almost violent reaction to her just when I was starting to think that perhaps there was something wrong with the mechanics down there. Maybe I just want to revenge myself on womankind. Maybe she’s the substitute I’m punishing for Rachele’s betrayal, the representation of the fickle sins of all Eves. Whatever my motivation, I don’t examine it too deeply as I lock the door and take the stairs to Livy’s apartment.
The old lady opens her door wearing a silk Kimono and an intricate hair comb that keeps her gray curls up.
“Right on time.” She steps aside. “Come in.”
When she’s locked the door, I give her the flowers I brought.
“Oh.” She presses a hand over her heart as she accepts the pink carnations and roses. “You’re such a gentleman.”
It’s not the term I’d use to describe myself, but I let her carry on about my charming manners as she puts the flowers in a vase that she fills with water.
When the business of finding the perfect spot for the bouquet is settled, she shows me to a low table in the lounge. A tray with a Kyushu and cups is set in the center.
“Have a seat,” she says, motioning at the cushions scattered around the table.
Once I’m sat on the floor with one leg bent, she goes down onto her knees with surprising agility, considering her age.
She lifts the Kyushu. “Tea? It’s jasmine.”
She pours without waiting for my reply and hands me a minuscule porcelain cup that looks as if it will crack if I grip it too hard.
“Thanks.”
I bring the cup to my nose and inhale. Being a coffee drinker myself, I can’t say the fragrance is appetizing.
After serving herself a cup, she sits back on her heels. “How are things going between you and Anya?”
“Great,” I say, measuring her. “Why do you ask?”
She watches me with shrewd eyes, sizing me up in turn. “Are you serious about her, or is she just a fleeting amusement?”
Her boldness surprises me. “That’s a very personal question.”
“That young lady endured more hardships in her life than any person should have to bear. If your intentions aren’t pure, it’s best you walk away now.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I say honestly.
She nods, approval sparking in her perceptive gaze. “In that case, there are a few things you need to know about Anya that she’ll never tell you herself.”
My curiosity is piqued. The report my investigator sent still sits in an encrypted file on my phone. I didn’t get much shuteye in Boston. After arriving home last night, I crashed and slept for nine hours straight. I haven’t read the information yet, but if there’s anything to know about Anya, he would’ve noted it. However, Anya and Livy seem to be friends from a long time back. Perhaps the old lady can shed light on matters that go deeper than facts.